


Too Close To Home

by cassie5squared



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Supernatural
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Childhood Friends, Gen, Other, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-24
Updated: 2016-05-24
Packaged: 2018-06-10 12:36:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6956695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cassie5squared/pseuds/cassie5squared
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>William Marshall, a young hunter from Michigan, is called home when something starts picking off the local police... and as he investigates, it becomes clear that Emmeline Vance, his childhood friend, may be its next target. Can he get to the cause of the mysterious deaths before it gets to her?</p><p>An "unaired episode".</p>
            </blockquote>





	Too Close To Home

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Hellhound (Lycaenion)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lycaenion/gifts).



> This is based on an AU of the Potterverse characters I created a long time back; the fic in question was written in response to a drabble prompt, but grew much longer.

He’d known Emmeline since grade school. She was one of the few friends he still had from before he started hunting. Whenever he came back into town, he’d made a point of meeting her for a catch-up. He was kind of impressed at how hard she’d worked towards her career; at her age, she might only be a rookie in the local police force, but she’d earned herself plenty of respect already.

He almost envied her; if he hadn’t grown up so angry and so driven, maybe he could’ve been like her, with a real career, with more family, able to enjoy doing normal everyday things instead of training himself to fight and kill monsters that lived in the dark. But he couldn’t be angry at her. Emmeline was sweet and affectionate and beautiful, and maybe, just maybe, they could have had something more than friendship. That thought was enough to give him a boost in the rough times.

And then he’d come back because there was a job to handle.

His grandad had called, told him a local police officer had died - one of Emmeline’s colleagues - and nobody could figure out exactly how or why it had happened. It sounded like enough of a case for him to grab Jason and drive all the way back from Colorado to Michigan, at least.

And he got there too late. It was less than two days later, but whatever it was had struck again - and the next police officer it’d killed was Emmeline’s own father.

When William showed up on the doorstep, all concern, she practically fell into his arms in tears.

It took a long time to get her to calm down enough to find out what had happened, and his heart broke all the harder as she poured it out between choked sobbing. Gaston Vance - and his colleague, Finch Cornell - had both apparently hanged themselves in their own back gardens, but neither of them had been the type to just commit suicide, and the investigation couldn’t figure out how either man had got to where he did without a ladder.

“The only thing I can think of,” she said finally, when she’d cried herself out, “is that someone else did it. But there’s no signs of anyone else being there at the time and nobody heard any struggling.”

“There’s got to be some sort of explanation,” he assured her. “I know your dad wouldn’t do something like this. Is there anything at all you can think of that happened that night?”

“…Mom says she woke up because Dad got out of bed,” she said. “He didn’t say why, though, just told her he’d be back in a minute. And then next time she woke up it was morning and he - he was…” She gestured out the window at the back garden, which was covered in police tape, and burst into tears again.

He hugged her close and let her cry into his shoulder, stroking her hair. It was a horrible wrench; he’d always liked Gaston, and honestly couldn’t think of a single reason why the man would be a target.

It was time to start his own investigations.

***

“Look, I’m telling you, son, there is not a single damn shady thing on either of them worse than skipping school once or twice,” Edward Marshall said, glowering at Jason from across the table. “I’ve known those two since they were _kids_. They’re the straightest cops I’ve ever heard of. Hell, they’re _descended_ from cops, both of ‘em. Policing’s in their blood.”

“All I’m sayin’ is that’s two killed in the last three days,” the lanky redhead retorted, scowling at the papers spread around them. “An’ no’ a thing tae explain why.”

“…I don’t suppose it’s just _because_ they’re police, is it?” Frieda mused. She’d been flipping through some old county records thoughtfully. “Spirits do sometimes target specific groups, after all.”

“Yeah, Gran, people they think _deserve_ to be targeted,” William said with a sigh. “Who’d go after the police? Especially ones who’re all above-board?”

“A criminal?” Jason suggested.

They all stopped to consider this. “You’ve got a point,” William conceded after a few moments. “Someone who got hanged, maybe, that might explain the way they died. Though it doesn’t explain why it’d only start now.”

“Maybe they got disturbed? Or let out o’ wherever they’d been waitin’? I dinnae know.” Jason shrugged. He was the only one there who wasn’t a local; born in Ohio to Scottish immigrants, he stuck out like a sore thumb pretty much everywhere, and while he was not a fan of intellectual pursuits, there was almost nothing he didn’t know about physical combat. He’d been one of William’s closest friends ever since the hunting network first put them in touch.

“I think I’ll call in a few favours,” Edward said, getting up with a slight grimace as something in his back clicked. “Maybe I can get a look at the old criminal records, see if we can put a name to our mystery hangman.”

“I’ll go back and see Emmeline again, see if I can find out if Finch went anywhere unusual the day before he died,” William added, frowning at nothing in particular. “Maybe he accidentally let this thing out.”

“Well, I’ve got the perfect excuse,” Frieda said lightly, patting her grandson on the shoulder. “I made a little something I was going to take round, but maybe you could do it instead.”

“Sounds good.” He smiled briefly, but without any real conviction. This case was just a bit too personal.

***

“Hi.” Emmeline managed a little smile when she opened the front door. “Couldn’t keep away, huh?”

“Gran asked me to come by and drop this off,” William said, holding up a tin. “She’s been baking all morning and she wanted to send something for you guys.”

“Pumpkin pie cookies?” she teased, letting him in. It was pretty common knowledge around there that they were Frieda’s signature treat.

“I think so. She made me promise not to peek, probably in case I stole one.” He smiled and followed her through the kitchen, where she put the tin on a worktop in amongst all the other food that concerned neighbours had brought. “I guess you’ve not had much peace today, huh?”

“Actually, I kind of prefer it when there’s people around,” she admitted, leaning against the worktop. “Mom’s not talking to anyone, she can’t handle it, and Chris can’t afford to take a day off given he’s the only doctor in town who’s not involved in the case, so I’ve been on my own and it’s just… not helping.”

“Kind of rough on him as well, isn’t it? You’d think they’d try to find someone else.” Emmeline’s big brother was a very easygoing and calm kind of person - perfect for a doctor, really - but his dad’s death had to have shaken him up badly.

“He said he’d rather go into work in case someone needed him than have to run all the way down there if there was an emergency.” She shrugged and ran a hand through her hair. “I don’t know, really.”

“Well, seeing as I’m here under orders to try to make you feel better, how about I distract you for a bit?” William suggested, and a little smile tugged at the corner of her mouth.

“Sure. Soda?”

“Yeah, thanks.”

She handed him a can and they sat down in the living room together. “How about you tell me if anything interesting happened since the last time I came through?” he suggested. “The last couple of days not included.”

“It’s all been pretty quiet, really,” she said with a shrug. “The worst we’ve had is a few kids deciding to start investigating abandoned properties on their own. Breaking and entering for the hell of it, you know?”

“Yeah, I get the picture. Sounds like they’ve got nothing better to do.”

“They’ve got plenty to do,” she grumbled. “Dad and Finch kept getting called out to wherever they’d been to check it out, just in case there was a real burglary going on.”

“…It was just them who did it?”

“Usually, yeah,” she said with a shrug. “Nobody else on the force knows the area like they do, so they could find all the old places without needing a map.”

“Did they ever tell you where they’d been?” he asked idly, taking a gulp of his drink. “I mean, which houses got broken into or whatever?”

“It all ended up in the reports,” she said wryly. “And as the local rookie, guess who got to read them all?”

He quirked a smile. “Sounds thrilling. Anywhere I’d know get busted into?”

“Yeah, actually, a couple of places.” She thought it over. “There’s the old Parish house a few miles north out of town, that got broken into a couple of weeks ago, and the last place that got hit was the Seabrooke property.”

“When was that?”

Her face fell. “The day before Finch…”

“Oh. Sorry, I didn’t mean to -”

“No, it’s fine. Just seems like there’s not much else I can think about at the moment, to be honest.” She smiled weakly. “I wish you were here more often, you know. I can talk to you about stuff… It’s not the same without you around.”

“I get itchy feet way too often,” he said ruefully. “Some people just aren’t made to stay in one place all the time.”

“I guess not, but how do you even manage?”

He shrugged. “I find jobs as I go, earns me enough to get by. And it’s always nice to see somewhere new.”

“Must be kind of lonely, though,” she murmured. “Never settling down anywhere.”

“I’ve been travelling with Jason the whole time,” he said with a grin. “We keep each other company. And I’ve always got you guys back here to come home to.”

“I guess, but… you’ve really never thought of settling down? With someone nice?”

“Not really,” he admitted. “Just doesn’t seem to be on my agenda at the moment.”

“You must meet girls, though,” she said lightly. “You’re not a travelling monk or something, are you?”

He chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “Not really, but, you know, I don’t like to just sleep around…”

“And he still blushes at the idea,” she teased, grinning. “Okay, okay, I won’t go on about it, but I think if you did find someone they’d be very lucky.”

“Well, thanks,” he replied, and covered up his sheepishness with another gulp from the can.

***

It was starting to get dark when he finally got home, and he was confronted almost immediately by his grandfather waving a sheaf of paper from the dining room. “Got it,” Edward said brightly. “Every known hanging in the county records.”

“How’d you explain that one?” William asked, amused.

“Said I was doing a bit of research on the local criminal history, they practically handed over every file they had.” Edward chuckled and went back to leafing through the papers. Jason, who was notoriously averse to anything remotely related to housework, had somehow been talked into helping Frieda make dinner, and was currently cutting up some vegetables at the sink. When he caught William’s eye, the glare he shot said clearly _We will not speak of this again_.

Grinning broadly, William sat down to help his grandfather look through the papers. “It’d go easier if we had any clue where to start looking,” Edward grumbled. “Half these guys were buried all over the county, and I’ll bet their graves weren’t marked.”

William glanced up. “Some of the local kids’ve been breaking into the old houses for kicks recently, Emmeline said. We might be able to concentrate on them - they’re the ones most likely to’ve been disturbed, right?”

“She mention any names?”

“Uh, yeah, actually. Just a couple in the last couple of weeks, the Parish place and the Seabrooke one.”

Edward paused in the act of opening a file. “…No kidding.”

“Nope. And she said the last one was right before Finch got attacked.”

“Well, I’ll be damned,” Edward murmured, laying the file out and reading through it. “I think we just found our spook.”

“What’ve we got?” Jason wandered in and leaned over to take a look.

“Atherton Seabrooke,” Edward explained. “Round about the turn of the century he was causing all sorts of trouble, finally arrested in 1905 for arson leading to the deaths of a local family and hanged. And get this. The arresting officers were Newton Cornell and Jean Vance.”

“Jean Vance was the head of the local force at the time, wasn’t he?” William said, trying to read the file upside-down. “I’m sure Emmeline mentioned that once.”

“Mm-hm. Gaston’s grandpa. And Newton was his deputy.”

“So you think he might be goin’ after the descendants of the guys who -” Jason made a quick “hanging” gesture.

“It’s a decent theory,” William said with a shrug. “But it looks like he’s singling out the ones who’re also in the local law enforcement, at least for the moment. These guys have a pattern, usually - he’d take out the Cornells first if it was the family in general he was going for, and _then_ go after the Vances.”

“There a lot o’ family for him tae go after?” Jason asked wryly.

“Enough,” Frieda put in. “But it seems like a reasonable - William, where are you going?”

“I think I know who his next target is,” the young man explained, frantically yanking on his jacket. “Grandad, try and find where this Atherton guy’s been buried, I’ve got to get to Emmeline before anything happens. Jase, c'mon!”

The two young men practically flew out the front door, Jason throwing a hasty apology behind him as it slammed closed again.

***

Emmeline wasn’t feeling able to sleep. She had her own place, but she’d wanted to stay with her mother for a bit after the attack and Margaux hadn’t bothered to argue. Looking after her and handling the concerned visitors had given Emmeline something to do, as she was currently on mandatory leave from work given the situation.

It was late, her mother had gone to bed, and for lack of anything else to do she was wrapping up the food that had been brought round and putting it away. As she closed the full-to-bursting fridge door, she got the fright of her life; staring through the window was a strange man with the most menacing expression she’d ever seen.

She fumbled for something, anything, that she could use to defend herself, but he simply smirked at her and seemed to fade into the darkness.

“Son of a bitch,” she muttered and, grabbing her nightstick and handcuffs off the belt hanging on the back of the door, yanked open the back door and plunged into the garden. “I know you’re here,” she snapped, with all the authority of the arm of the law. “You’re on private property, show yourself!”

A sudden chill enveloped her as she reached the big tree in the middle of the garden, and a stink of malice surrounded her. Before she could do more than turn around to see the stranger grinning at her again, something dropped over her head and she was dragged off her feet.

***

“She’s no’ pickin’ up,” Jason reported from the back seat as he hung up and began checking the shotguns.

“Damn it!” William smacked the steering wheel in frustration.

“Even if we get there in time, what the hell’re you goin’ tae tell her?”

“I don’t know, okay? Some nutjob’s after the local cops and we think she’s next or something.”

“An’ she won’t ask how you know? I thought you said she’s smart.”

“…I’ll cross that bridge when I get to it.”

They pulled up outside the Vance house and scrambled out. The guns were in the duffle bag slung over Jason’s shoulder, ready to produce at once if needed.

“No lights on,” the Scot observed laconically.

“There’s a light round the back,” William disagreed, peering round the side of the house. “She might be in the kitchen.” He led the way down the path to the back garden - and slammed to a halt in horror at the sight that met his eyes.

Emmeline was dangling from the tree, kicking and struggling as she clutched at the noose around her neck. Beneath her, holding the other end of the rope, was a gaunt, pale man in turn-of-the-century clothing, wearing an expression of utterly vicious glee as he watched the young woman’s weakening struggles.

“NO!”

Jason was already shoving a shotgun towards William as they both broke into a sprint. Instinct took over, and in William’s hands the gun was cocked, aimed and fired in the space of a second. The ghost of Atherton Seabrooke vanished at once, and Emmeline fell to the ground.

With Jason covering him in case the spirit returned, William rushed to her side and dropped to his knees. “C'mon, it’s okay, I’ve got you,” he murmured, cutting the noose and helping her sit up as she coughed and spluttered for breath. “You’re gonna be fine, all right? It’s okay.”

“William?” she croaked, tears of shock rolling down her face. “There was a guy, in the garden, I didn’t know him, and then that rope got me and I was choking and -”

“He’s gone for now,” he said, slipping his arm under her shoulders. “I think we scared him off. Let’s get you inside, it’s cold out.” She was still weak and shaky after her near-strangulation, and Jason bent to help her up as well, steadying her till she was on her feet again.

As they turned back towards the house, all three let out a yelp of shock. Seabrooke was standing there, exuding utter rage, clearly not deterred all that badly yet. He lunged at Emmeline, but Jason’s trigger finger was faster, and the blast of rock salt dissolved the spirit once more.

“Come on!” They ran for the house, slamming the door behind them, and William eased Emmeline into a chair. While Jason kept watch, William immediately began hunting through the cupboards. “C'mon, c'mon, where’s the salt? Emme, for the love of God tell me there’s some salt in here, _please_!”

“In there, top shelf.” She nodded at a cupboard, staring at him with complete confusion as he grabbed the container and began pouring a line of salt along the bottom of the door. “What the hell is going on?”

“Still think it’s best tae save the big explanation for later?” Jason enquired. He saw his friend’s shoulders slump, and sighed. “Cannae hide it forever, pal.”

“…I know.” William carried on laying down the salt without looking up.

“Hide _what_?” Emmeline demanded, her voice still croaky but getting stronger as she recovered herself. “What are you hiding?”

Once he’d sealed the last entrance to the room, William straightened up, visibly braced himself and turned to face her. “It’s… kind of a long story.”

***

“So let me get this straight,” she said. “You two hunt _ghosts_ for a living, and you’re saying this Atherton Seabrooke is a ghost who wants me dead for something my great-grandad did to him.”

William gave her a helpless look. “I know it sounds nuts…”

“Damn right it sounds nuts,” she fired back, running her hands through her hair. “It’d sound even crazier if I hadn’t seen the way he just _vanished_ … how’d you do that, by the way?”

“Salt, ” he explained, unloading his shotgun to show her the modified shell. “It’s a traditional purifier, so it keeps away spirits. Same reason I put it round all the doors and windows in here. They can’t pass it.”

“So I’m only safe as long as I’m in here?” The colour faded from her face. “What about Mom? And Chris? If he’s going after my family -”

“Right now we’re pretty sure he’s only after you.”

“Pretty sure isn’t good enough, William, this _dick_ killed my dad.”

“These things have a one-track mind,” Jason put in. “They fix on a target an’ it’s all they’re after till they’ve got it. Right now, he wants you dead. After that maybe he’ll think he’s got everyone he thinks deserves it, maybe he’ll want tae finish your family, but right now it’s your neck on the line.”

“So what’re we going to do?” she challenged him. “Sit here and let him stare at me from behind the magic salt line forever?”

William shook his head. “Grandad’s looking up where he’s buried. Soon as we know that, we can deal with him.”

“…How?”

He grimaced. “Standard method’s to dig up the bones, salt them, and burn them. It should make him move on.”

“Should?” She raised an eyebrow at him.

“Sometimes there’s something else, maybe a lock of hair that got kept or whatever. But if that’s the case, we’ll find it,” he promised. “We’ll find it and get rid of him and he won’t hurt you again. Everything can go back to normal.”

“Normal as in a dead guy coming back to life and killing my dad?” There was a distinct bitterness in her voice now. “And where one of my best friends has been a damn Ghostbuster for as long as I’ve known him and he never even told me.”

“I’m _sorry_ ,” he said miserably. “I wanted to tell you, only…”

“Only what?”

“Only I figured you’d think I was _crazy_ , okay?” he snapped, frustrated and miserable. “Or worse, you’d believe me and want to help! The last thing I wanted was for you to get dragged into what we do - you’ve got a career and a normal life. I didn’t get normal, Emme, my parents were snatched by a monster when I was two years old and I grew up planning to make it pay. I never wanted you to get involved.”

She bit her lip, but remained silent, watching him unhappily for a while. Finally she said quietly, “Can someone _please_ go check my mom’s okay?”

“I’ll go,” Jason offered, and slipped out, taking the salt with him. An awkward silence reasserted itself; William had no idea what to say after his little outburst, and Emmeline seemed too shaken for words.

The squeal of his cell phone made them both jump. He hastily dug it out of his pocket and checked the number before answering. “Hey, Gran.”

“Is everything all right? Are you all safe?”

“Yeah, we’re fine, we’re good. I was right, though, Gran, it came straight for Emme and we only just got here in time. We’ll stay inside till morning. How’re things going your end, you and Grandad find anything?”

“We think we’ve found where Seabrooke was buried,” she assured him. “Come by in the morning and we’ll give you what we’ve got.”

“Sounds good. See you then. Love you.” He hung up and sighed. “I guess we’re going grave-hunting tomorrow then.”

***

Edward gave his grandson a very odd look the next morning when Emmeline walked in beside him.

“Look, I tried to persuade her to stay behind,” William said wearily. In fact there’d been an almighty fight about it; only the realisation that Margaux Vance was awake had cut it off before she could hear them, and Emmeline had stubbornly taken that as a sign that she’d won.

She now scowled and turned to Edward. “This ghost, or whatever - it killed my dad and one of his best friends and damn well nearly killed me. And if it gets me? My mom and my big brother are next. So yeah, I want in on taking it down.”

The old man glanced at his wife, who shrugged in a very _it’s her decision_ fashion. “Well, fine by me,” he said. “I’m going along as well, save some time trying to find the place. You boys got everything you need?”

“Think so.” William shrugged.

“No point hanging around then. We should be back by lunch.” Edward tucked a couple of papers into his pocket, kissed Frieda on the cheek, and led the way out to William’s old truck.

***

It took the best part of half an hour to get out to the Seabrooke property. At first the atmosphere in the car was mainly an awkward silence, but Emmeline, finally getting fed up, turned to Edward, who was sharing the back seat with her. “How long have you been… well, doing this? You seem to know a hell of a lot about it.”

“You mean the actual job?” He shook his head and ran a hand through what was left of his grey hair. “To tell you the truth, this is only about the fourth I’ve ever gotten personally involved with,” he admitted. “Me and Frieda, we’re more in the line of research and the occasional refuge. Saves time for hunters if there’s somewhere with all the information they need to hand, and saving time means saving lives.”

She nodded. “When did you start?”

“Oh, years ago,” he said, gazing out of the window. “It was just a hobby back then, didn’t become as much an occupation till we lost Chris and Ruth. I recognised that something was up, got in touch with the serious guys and said I wanted to help, and things just kind of grew from there. They dropped by every so often, helped William out when he wanted some training he couldn’t do alone, and that was that.”

“It must’ve been hard,” she said quietly. “Did you ever find it? The thing that got your Chris?”

He sighed and glanced at William, who was driving with his head propped up on one hand. The young man shifted, but didn’t look round. “We found it,” he said finally. “Last year. Me and Jason cornered it and put it down for good.”

“You got into hunting to find it, right?” she asked tentatively. He nodded. “Well, if you found it, why keep going? You could come home and give it all up now.”

“Give up?” His voice sharpened, filling with anger and pain and grief. “Emme, you don’t just _give up_ hunting. Once you start, it’s your life. There’s always some little shred of evil in the world, and if you don’t deal with it, who else is going to? You can’t turn a blind eye once you know what’s out there. I _can’t_ quit,” he concluded heavily. “There’s still too many people to save.”

“Is that what it’s about? Saving people so you can feel better?”

“It’s about makin’ sure nobody else has tae go through the things we’ve gone through,” Jason said through gritted teeth. “You’d wish what’s happened tae you on anyone else?”

“…No.”

“Well then, dinnae tell us why we’re doin’ what we do.” He turned his back and pointedly scanned the road ahead.

She bit back her next question on catching Edward’s eye and the little shake of his head, and sank back in her seat reluctantly.

By the time they pulled up at the rather forbidding old house, however, the two young men were all business again. “Here you are,” William said, handing Emmeline a shotgun already loaded and some extra shells. “You see our buddy, you give him something to think about. Just because he’s after you doesn’t mean he’ll ignore us if he thinks we’re going to stop him. And watch out for any ropes, whatever you do.” While he was praying like hell she wouldn’t have to do anything, it was probably for the best if she had some way to back them up.

“What about you?”

He held up the battered old duffle bag and a shovel. “I come prepared.”

“Where is it we’ll need tae be headed?” Jason said, tramping round to join them with a shovel and shotgun balanced over his shoulders. “Looks like you’re at the head o’ the party, Edward, till we find what we’re lookin’ for.”

“Well, according to the records, Atherton’s family claimed his body and brought it back to the family crypt,” Edward said, peering at his notes. “Which is round the back. Keep those shooters at the ready. We’re on his turf now.”

It was a very edgy group that ventured onto the property. William and Jason were hypervigilant, painfully conscious of the two extra people whose backs they had to watch; Edward, aware that he wasn’t in any physical condition to get involved in a fight, was doing his best to both find the path and make sure he wouldn’t get in the way if trouble broke out; and Emmeline, running off adrenaline and rage, was pretty much spoiling for the chance to lash out.

The crypt, when they found it, had clearly had the lock smashed off, and the rusted, elaborately worked door hung wide open. “Goddamn kids,” Jason muttered, kicking the lock aside. Edward paused, examining the door, and finally shook his head.

“Think we’ve solved the mystery of how he got out,” he said, tapping the metal. “Door’s made of iron.”

“So… he couldn’t pass through it till it was opened again?” Emmeline guessed. William flashed her a brief smile and a nod, and nudged past to enter the crypt first, flashlight and shotgun raised.

The place wasn’t too bad, compared to some burial grounds he’d experienced. Plenty of cobwebs, but nothing particularly out of the ordinary. The tombs were set into the walls, and as the others came in behind him he began scanning the names carved into the stone. “Angelica… Helen… Michael… hey guys, here we are,” he called. They gathered round, flashlights raised, to examine the plain stone box.

“Guess he wasnae too popular wi’ them either,” Jason remarked, nodding at the more elaborate containers around them.

“Guess not,” William agreed, rummaging in his bag for the salt and handing it to Edward. “Here, hold this? Jase, help me open the lid. Emme, you keep a watch out.”

Between them, the boys managed to heave the lid open enough to expose the contents, wrinkling their noses at the smell. As Jason took the salt container and began shaking it over the mouldering bones, however, the flashlights began to flicker and a bitter chill spread through the place.

“Guys…” Emmeline’s voice was rather uncertain.

“Gimme the gas - come on, _hurry_!” William snatched the container out of the bag and wrestled it open, releasing the thick smell of petrol fumes as he shoved it into Jason’s hands. He grabbed his gun just as the ghost of Seabrooke appeared in front of the door, raising one hand to point at Emmeline.

Her eyes went flinty, and she levelled her shotgun at him and fired both barrels. “That’s for my _dad_ , you son of a bitch!” she snarled as he vanished, but the next moment he’d rematerialised right in front of her and grabbed her by the throat. William’s first shot forced him to let go, but he was back again almost instantly, hurling William into the wall and advancing on Emmeline once more as she fumbled to reload.

Jason dropped the can and swung into action, leaving Edward to scramble for the matches while blast after blast echoed through the chamber in a desperate attempt to keep the vengeful spirit away from his intended victim.

Both boys were flung against the wall again, and Jason collapsed as his head caught a sharp corner. William groggily dragged himself to his knees as Emmeline backed up against the far wall, out of ammo, her hands shaking despite the steel in her gaze.

But just as the ghost reached out once more, a blaze leapt up from the stone coffin, and Edward jumped back, having barely snatched his hand away in time. Atherton Seabrooke screeched in rage as his spirit burned away, inches from his prize, and vanished into a few wisps of greasy smoke.

Emmeline glanced at her companions, not quite sure whether it was safe to move. “…Is he gone?”

“He’s gone,” William confirmed, managing to regain his feet at last. “We’re good. Well, we’re alive… Jase, don’t tell me you’ve got knocked out again,” he groaned, kneeling beside his friend. Jason’s response, though not very articulate, was enough to put his mind at rest, and with a bit of help the lanky young man was eventually more or less upright again.

“I vote we get back tae town an’ dinnae come here again,” Jason mumbled as the little party made its way back to the car.

“I’m right with you,” Edward agreed. “I’m really not built for this bit of the job.”

“Saved our arses though,” Jason said cheerfully, right before he stumbled over a loose flagstone. William chuckled, but he couldn’t help noticing that Emmeline was decidedly quiet.

In fact, she didn’t speak at all on the drive back, and the only thing she said when they dropped her off at home was, “You’re going to stay for the funeral, aren’t you?”

On receiving a promise that yes, indeed, William wouldn’t leave until then, she nodded and headed inside without another word.

***

They didn’t speak again until the day after Gaston Vance and Finch Cornell had been laid to rest. William had come down to the cemetery to say a final farewell; he and Jason planned to leave in the morning, and he wanted to pay his respects to two men he’d known and liked all his life.

“I didn’t think you’d still be here.” He looked up at the familiar voice. Emmeline was a few feet away, wrapped up in a warm coat and watching him with an unreadable expression.

“I didn’t want to rush right off,” he replied. “It didn’t feel right. But we’re heading back out tomorrow.”

“Where are you going to go?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. Wherever the job takes us, I guess.”

“Of course. The job.” She sighed and shook her head.

“Emme… look, I’m sorry. I should have told you, I _know_.”

“Not really.” She gave him a slightly wistful smile. “I can understand why you didn’t. I probably _would_ have thought you were crazy. It’s just been a shock.”

He nodded unhappily. “I know. I guess it’s just… changed everything too much now. I’m not who you thought I was.”

“No.” The sharp note in her voice made him look up, and she stepped closer, reaching for his hand. “Everything that’s happened over the last couple of weeks or so… it’s been scary, and it’s hurt, and _some_ things have changed too much… but when it comes to you and me, what happened doesn’t change anything.”

At the openly bewildered look he gave her, she smiled sadly. “Ever since we were kids we’ve looked out for each other. You never stopped doing that, even if it meant hiding things from me. You were just trying to make sure I was safe, and I appreciate that.”

“Didn’t do that great a job though, huh?” he muttered, shamefaced.

“You can’t protect me from everything forever,” she replied, giving his hand a little squeeze. “But you can still help me out.”

“…How?”

“You’re leaving, right? Going back to hunting ghosts?”

“And other things too, but yeah,” he admitted.

“You could take me with you.”

He blinked and stared at her, not quite sure he’d heard her correctly. “You said what now?”

“I can’t stay here,” she said quietly. “Not any more. It’s not the safe little town I thought it was, and there’s too much of Dad here. And…”

“Yeah?” he prompted, though he had the sinking feeling he knew what was coming. There was a certain look about her now, a look he’d seen so many times before…

“I think I understand what you meant now,” she confessed. “About knowing what’s out there, and wanting to deal with it yourself. Because people won’t understand what’s happened. Mum, Chris - they’d never believe me if I told them what happened to Dad, and it’s going to keep hurting them, not knowing. I don’t want anyone else to hurt like that. I’d like to join you, if you’ll have me.”

William nodded slowly, squeezing her hand lightly. His guess was right. She had the look that any hunter could recognise; the reason to hunt.

And it was his fault. He’d failed to protect her from it. It was only fair that he helped her come to terms with it and protect herself, the only way he could.

Besides, the idea of having her close by made his heart do just the tiniest gleeful dance.

“Welcome to the party,” he said with a wry chuckle, and she managed a smile as she hugged him.


End file.
